


rose by any other name (wouldn't sound as sweet falling from your lips)

by iDragonSpyro



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: F/F, Lil Bit Of Crying, Names, Podfic Available, and stupid, ava is sad, beatrice attempts self-repression, dumass ava, dumbass beatrice, fuckin. flowery imagery?, i'm gonna kill both of them they're both so dumb, idk what the fuck i did, it doesn't go well, like jesus fuck they're so gay, thanks to the discord y'all are wild, they're heckin gay, this is the least crack thing i've ever written idk how it happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iDragonSpyro/pseuds/iDragonSpyro
Summary: Maybe it’s because she spends the most time thinking about hers, but it seems to her that it cannot be defined by a singular set of words or feelings. It changes with the day, with the topic, with the person she’s talking to......Or about.It’s only a bit later that Ava begins to notice that Beatrice’s voice conveys how she feels about others.She has different cues and ticks for all of them, and Ava can’t help but love each one.Shehatesthe way Beatrice says her name.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 35
Kudos: 520





	rose by any other name (wouldn't sound as sweet falling from your lips)

**Author's Note:**

> **Podfic Link (also at bottom):** [ [Podfic] rose by any other name (wouldn't sound as sweet falling from your lips) ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712157)

She notices it almost immediately.

For someone that has spent the majority of their life lying in a bed, unable to move or see that far past the confines of their room, Ava likes to think that she’s become fairly good at picking up other people’s speech patterns. If someone is keeping their face out of view, her only clue as to what emotions they’re expressing is through their words.

Frustration meant quicker words, bitten off at the end like they had been chewed up by a dog.

Anger was similar, but it tended to be more throaty, deeper, like an animal growling, or sometimes like a hissing snake.

Happiness and joy were harder to pick up, since she didn’t hear words spoken with those tones very often, but they felt lighter, almost warm. Kind of like what Ava remembered a hug to feel like.

So Ava starts noticing the speech patterns of the others almost immediately. 

Camila’s voice is almost always bright and bubbly. It’s like sunshine, or maybe the soda that Ava had tried just a few weeks ago. Her voice fills a room with its happiness. 

When her voice isn’t bright, it can be quite calm, like a pool of water in a forest. Soothing. Ava thinks, from the stories she tells about her mother and nettle tea, that she gets it from her family.

Mary’s voice is different. It’s sharper, but not unkind. It’s sharp in a way that is meant to direct, not cut. 

Ava thinks she’s kind of like a lion, really. Her voice roars and commands attention, but when the day is over and they all sit together at the door of wherever they happen to be staying that night, it’s quieter, almost purring as they tell each other stories of the past.

Lilith’s voice is a lot like fire. Over her time spent with the Sisters, Ava learns that it is not fire in the way that anger is, flashing and burning, that her fire is from her passion, her love. 

It comes from protection. 

Her fire is not a forest set ablaze, but a torch held out in front as a guard against the dark.

Beatrice, Ava thinks, has the most interesting voice of all.

Maybe it’s because she spends the most time thinking about hers, but it seems to her that it cannot be defined by a singular set of words or feelings. It changes with the day, with the topic, with the person she’s talking to... 

...Or about.

Ava has a theory that since she’s so used to monitoring _what_ she says, she uses _how_ she says it as its own form of communication. When they are discussing plans, her voice is focused, attentive, letting the stream of her thoughts carry her from one idea to the next. When they are talking more casually, maybe laying in the sun outside after training, it’s slower. Her words still carry themselves naturally, but they take longer to come, or pause to let the silence through, or they linger on themselves. As the days pass, Ava finds they begin lingering longer, as if waiting for silence but unwilling to let it interrupt them.

It’s only a bit later that Ava begins to notice that Beatrice’s voice conveys how she feels about others.

It starts with a discussion about Father Vincent, Camila’s brow furrowed tightly and Mary’s hands clenching at the grip of her shotguns. Ava watches as Beatrice clasps her hands together and keeps her voice steady, a muscle jumping in her jaw, listens as she infuses his title with what feels like enough poison to kill a horse, her upper lip curling and her nose wrinkling just slightly as she bites the word out. 

Ava decides that Beatrice looks for all the world like a wolf baring its fangs when it’s angry, and hopes she’s never on the receiving end of that expression. 

Beatrice says Lilith’s name directly, dipping slightly around the second “l” and not allowing the soft “th” sound to fall off. She says her name like an old friend, like someone she respects and knows respects her in return.

She says Mary’s name quietly, but with strength, like she knows Mary has her own, but she’d like to offer hers as well. Not unlike Lilith’s, when she says Mary’s name she says it like she is someone she respects, but she also says it like she is someone she wants to help.

When Beatrice says Camila’s name, the corners of her lips turn up slightly, practically involuntarily. Ava thinks that’s just how everyone says Camila’s name; she’s seen the same thing from Mary and from Lilith, has felt her own lips do the same. Beatrice says Camila’s name with that little smile, voice softer and more welcoming. She says her name like she’s someone Beatrice wants to protect.

She has different cues and ticks for all of them, and Ava can’t help but love each one.

She _hates_ the way Beatrice says her name.

She says it carefully.

That’s it.

There is no turn at the corner of her lips, no dip around the middle sound, not even a wrinkled nose or a curl of her upper lip.

_Ava._

Nothing. Blank, quiet, two syllables and off to the next word.

_Ava._

She grits her teeth, fist clenched tightly at her sides. She tells herself she has no idea why it bothers her so much, but of course, she knows exactly what it is, and it makes everything worse.

It hurts, for Beatrice to not have attached anything to her name. Every time she says it Ava can feel a shard in her heart driving just a little bit deeper.

Her need to hear her name spilled from Beatrice’s lips constantly at war with the discomforting notion that there’s nothing behind the sound.

Ava doesn’t really notice how Beatrice’s name comes from her own lips, and she hopes Beatrice doesn’t notice it either, because Ava is sure it’s too full of feelings when compared to the obvious lack of anything similar tied to her own name.

Beatrice knows her emotions come through too heavily in her voice. 

It’s something her parents taught her, when she was young. Do not speak harsh words, but speak the words themselves harshly. 

Beatrice is okay with this. She often still finds it difficult to fully express her emotions with her words, too cognizant of the fact that it was her words that made her parents think she should be sent away, so she finds comfort in her ability to translate emotions into her tone. 

Unfortunately, it has become a bit of a problem as of late.

With certain words, she is not fully in control of the emotions that are expressed in them, most commonly names. She has noticed that the way she says another’s name is often guided by her opinion of them, or how she views them. She wants to protect Camila, she was friends with Lilith before either of them moved up in rank, Mary had always acted as a friend and mentor to some of the other girls, alongside Shannon, but Beatrice had always thought that she deserved some rest.

This is all fine; she is comfortable with what her voice might reflect to them.

The problem is Ava.

Specifically, it’s in the widening of her eyes and quick upturn of her lips when she successfully reads through a lesson Camila had set for her. It’s in the little shimmy she does with her shoulders when she masters a move Lilith is teaching her. It’s in her hands, the way they wave and then grasp Beatrice’s own and then pull back to rake the hair out of her own eyes as she describes a story she had imagined.

Beatrice is terrified of what Ava might hear if she listens to her say her name. 

She knows she listens, she sees the slight furrow in her brow when she talks to Mary and Lilith, just barely catches the flash of her smile when she walks in on Beatrice listening to Camila animatedly recount tales of the things she had seen when learning to hack into cameras and operating systems. 

Ava seems to have guessed the emotions behind how she says the others’ names, and Beatrice is determined that nothing in how she says hers will let the other girl know what she feels.

She’ll take confusion and friendship over clarity and disgust.

She practices in front of the mirror after dinner every night. Saying Ava’s name over and over again until it comes out without sounding like it’s singing from her lips, like it’s the most important thing she could ever say... 

...Like it’s burning her soul.

She practices until she’s absolutely sure that none of her feelings shine through.

She knows Ava notices it, practically feels the confusion rolling off of her, but Ava must be practicing… _something,_ she’s not sure what, as well, because whenever Beatrice says her name, she just barely manages to catch a flicker of something that looks uncomfortably like _hurt_ cross her face, not even a second before it’s gone.

Ava doesn’t change how she acts towards her, though, so Beatrice figures that whatever it is that causes her face to twist must be unrelated, perhaps even unconscious. She hasn’t said anything about it, so everything is probably fine.

Beatrice is not wrong often, nor does she like it when she is.

This is an exception on both counts.

She breaks a few weeks after their return to Cat’s Cradle.

It starts hurting a little too much, the sting when Beatrice says her name, when the sound bounces and echoes off of the old walls and just makes it more apparent how empty the word feels.

It feels like she doesn’t care.

At least the nuns at the orphanage had been open with how they felt, even if what they felt was hate.

So she starts… drifting. Very slowly, and not as far as it feels like she should, because she doesn’t want the others to become concerned, and she still wants to be around Beatrice because nothing in the world makes her happier, but she goes to the other side of the room during planning meetings, or leaves completely, and she asks others to train, and basically does everything in her power to keep Beatrice from saying her name so much.

It works for a bit, but then she’s in a room with just Beatrice and Mary, going over plans for a divinium raid, and Beatrice has been saying her name over and over and Ava can feel herself tensing, shutting down, because there’s more feeling in Beatrice’s voice when she talks about coordinates and entry points than when she says her name, so she leaves as soon as the meeting is over.

Beatrice blinks after her, confused, and shoots a glance at Mary. 

She snorts and mutters something about young fools wasting their time, and gestures vaguely for Beatrice to go after Ava.

So she does.

Ava’s not exactly easy to find, not because she knows the castle all that well or is actively avoiding anyone, but because when she doesn’t want to be found she turns down random halls and passages until she’s just as lost as anyone who might be following her.

Fortunately for Beatrice, she has noticed this pattern, so instead of trying to look for Ava, she wanders, letting her feet carry them where they want.

She finds Ava leaning her forehead against a wall in a random passage in the East Wing of the castle. She doesn’t seem to hear her approach, so she calls out carefully.

“Ava?”

She startles a bit and steps back, spinning to face Beatrice. “Oh- h-hey, Beatrice.”

Beatrice frowns. “Ava, are you alright?”

Ava turns her face away slightly and clears her throat roughly. “Y-yeah, I’m good, just- I needed some air, I wasn't feeling well.”

“If you weren’t feeling well, Ava, you should-”

_”Stop.”_

Beatrice freezes. “What?”

Ava shakes her head. “Stop it, stop saying my name, I can’t-” She clenches her fists and sucks in a breath.

Beatrice slowly steps forward, asks, “What’s wrong, Ava?” and this close, this alone, she can track the wince when she says Ava’s name, the ducking of her eyes, the hunching of her shoulders.

“I just- you-” Ava steps back again, clenching her eyes shut. “There’s nothing there. When you say my name.”

Beatrice steps forward after her, quietly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you say Lilith’s name like you respect her, and Mary’s name like you trust her, and Camila’s name like you want to protect her, you even say Vincent’s name like you want to tear him to shreds, but there’s- _there’s nothing,_ when you say my name, no protection, no trust, no hate, and I don’t- it _stings,_ because I can’t tell if you’re doing it on purpose or trying to hide something or if really there just _isn’t anything there,_ and I think that would hurt the most, because everyone says the opposite of love is indifference, and Beatrice, I think I could handle it better if your voice said it hated me instead of it saying you don’t care, so unless you have an answer for that, just _stop,_ please.”

She had been backing up the entire time she was talking, subconsciously, her eyes still shut, and she yelps quietly when her back brushes against the wall. She opens her eyes and jerks again.

Beatrice had been moving forward the entire time, subconsciously, eyes wide open, and she’s standing right in front of Ava, watching her and breathing slowly. Had she really… had she really been so blind? To not realize what she was doing to Ava, too caught up in protecting her emotions that she hadn’t even considered that, perhaps, they didn’t need protecting?

She gently grabs Ava’s wrist with one hand, pulling it to rest over her own heart, and slides her other hand up to cup Ava’s jaw, tilting her head to press their foreheads together. She’s crying, Beatrice realizes, and swipes her thumb carefully over Ava’s cheek to wipe the tears away.

Ava shuts her eyes again and shudders, fingers flexing against Beatrice’s chest. “Why?”

Beatrice tips her head forward and kisses her.

Ava stiffens, just slightly, and melts immediately, rocking forward into Beatrice’s arms, her free hand coming up to settle on Beatrice’s hip. She gives up on controlling the thumping of her heart, choosing instead to settle in deeper into the kiss.

Beatrice pulls back, only a little, their foreheads pressed together again, and Ava manages to fight back a small whine and opens her eyes.

"Ava," Beatrice breathes out, just against her lips, and the single word feels like warmth and light and fire and safety, nothing like the careful blankness that had come with it when Beatrice had said her name before. 

Ava shivers slightly and tightens her grip on Beatrice's hips, fighting against the sting in her eyes that signaled more tears. 

Beatrice works her jaw for a moment, nudging lightly against Ava’s head with her own. "I say it like that because if I don't it becomes too much. Because it's the only way I can actually say what I need to after it. Because if I allowed myself to say your name like I want to that would be the end. I wouldn't be able to focus on what I needed to tell you, or what you said in response- I would be focused on the residual hum from the 'v' and wonder if the tingle in my lips would be similar if we kissed. I would be focused on the crinkle next to your eyes and the turn of your lips and think about ways to make you do that more." 

She pauses for a moment and lets go of Ava’s wrist, bringing her hand up to cup both sides of Ava's face, fingers stroking along the underside of her jaw. Her thumb sweeps gently across her cheek to wipe away an escaped tear. "I say your name like I do because I fear that, if I were to let my emotions through, to lay them bare before you in such a simply honest way, it would destroy me."

Ava brings her own hands up to grasp Beatrice’s wrists on either side of her face. “Say it again?”

Beatrice smiles and tilts forward to press a light kiss to her lips. “Ava.”

She shuts her eyes again and smiles slowly. “I like that a lot more.”

Beatrice presses a kiss to both of her eyelids. “Me too.”

“You should probably do it more, you know. Since we both like it so much.”

She laughs softly. “Are you ever going to let this go?”

Ava rocks forward and presses into her, kissing her happily and smiling when Beatrice’s entire body relaxes against her. “Not a chance.”

Beatrice just laughs and wraps her arms around her, spinning them both around.

Ava thinks she likes the way she says her name the best.

**Author's Note:**

> sponsored by 12-hour cross-country drives and boredom.  
> i read the fifth chapter of An Apple A Day by PaperHatsandPaperBoats (if you're reading this you're killing me, dude), went feral in the discord for a minute, and then did more.  
> my tumblr is @idragonspyro, feel free to come scream at me there.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] rose by any other name (wouldn't sound as sweet falling from your lips)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712157) by [AudioFrickBooks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudioFrickBooks/pseuds/AudioFrickBooks)




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